Lucidi l'anima antiqua Shine the ancient blood
by bubbletoes
Summary: UPDATED! Hermione and Dumbldore prepare to tell Snape about the prophesy, and Hermione dreams....
1. Default Chapter

Title: Lucidi l'anima antiqua (Shine the ancient blood)

Rating: PG-13 for now

Summary: An ancient prophesy tells of a savior in whose blood flows the blood of the four Hogwarts founders. A savior from whose tainted soul will rise an unimaginable power, greater than the world has ever known. Hermione Granger finds that key to defeating Voldemort does not lie with the famous Harry Potter, but within Professor Severus Snape.

Author's Note: Here goes nothing!!! I have been a reader of Snape/Hermione fics for a long time, but I have never had the courage to write one before. However, this was one plot bunny that refused to hop away, and so I have succumbed to it. This is going to be a novel-length fic, even if not a single person reviews it. For my own sanity, I think I'll that I'll have to write all of it. But, I would dearly love it if anyone could find it in their hearts to review this for me!!!! Please, please, please, please, please review!! Oh, and I promise that things are going to get very interesting. I have read and been influenced by many fics, but the most noticeable ones are Pawn to Queen, Falling Further In, and Letter From Exile One Merciful Morning. So if there are any resemblance's, you know where they came from!!! Alright, now on with the show!!!

As Hermione Granger shuffled down the halls of Hogwarts, she wrapped herself tightly into her nightrobe. The corridors were distinctly chilly, despite the fact that it was barely into October, and for some reason the cold was seeping into her very bones. A simple warming charm would have fixed the problem, but snuggling deeper into her warm woolen robe was far pleasurable. It made her feel cozy and safe, and reminded her of nights spent in front of the fire, drinking hot chocolate with her grandmother and listening to lengthy stories about the family's ancient Greek ancestors. Not the most exciting of memories, to be sure, but it was comforting to remember the good, honest simplicity of the life she had once had. At times like these, a normal muggle existence seemed almost preferable. Almost, but not quite.

Despite all the recent havoc and tension in the magical world, Hermione could truly not imagine being anything other than a witch. It was her calling, and as much as she loved her muggle family, there was still nowhere else in the world that she would rather be. Where but Hogwarts could she learn the secrets of Arthimancy, the tricks to Charm-casting, the precise concentration required for Transfiguration? Where but Hogwarts could she be taught and nurtured by some of the best witches and wizards of the age? And most importantly, where but Hogwarts could she find such loyal, accepting friends as those she currently possessed?Hermione knew without a doubt that she was blessed with the two most extraordinary best friends a girl could ever dream of having. Ron, Harry, and herself balanced each other perfectly, each of them an equally important member of the Golden Trio. Ron was the humor, Harry was the valor, and Hermoine was the brains; and without fail, it always required the _three_ of them to survive through whatever perilous situations they encountered

There was a time, especially during fourth year, that Hermoine feared the boys would forget how vital each of their abilities were, and would let jealousy and self-pity tear their friendship apart. Indeed, that whole business with the Triwizard Tournament had been torture. She had precariously balanced both boys friendship, and feverishly prayed that one of them would stop being a stubborn ass and just apologize. Hermione valued her friends above almost anything; they helped her to stay grounded and forced her to develop social skills, in which she had been sorely lacking as a first year. Harry and Ron might not enrich her mind, but they most certainly kept her head in the world "beyond the library". To have them fight like that, over such a stupid mix of jealousy and misunderstanding, viscously tore at her emotions, and when they finally made-up, Hermione cried enough to fill the bloody Pacific ocean.

That had not been the last time those two would clash, but nothing else ever again came close to severing their friendship. Harry and Ron had too much in common, from their love for all things quidditch to their vehement hatred of all things Slytherin, to ever really stop being friends. And as for Hermione, she was simply to stubborn to let any disagreement among them fester enough to become a problem. However, though she tried to remain in blissful ignorance, the fact that Ron obviously wanted more than her friendship was becoming more and more apparent. 

The past year had been especially difficult, what with the Ministry of Magic's decree that all schools should be closed due a safety risk from "rising dark forces" (to this day, Fudge still refused to believe in Voldemort's return), and Hermione's consequent stay at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. For their safety, her parents had been advised to take a long holiday and stay away for the length of school year, while Hermione would be kept close to Dumbledore and the other Phoenix's for protection. At first this arrangement was very agreeable, for she was able to stay close to her friends and up-to-date on the current situation. But quite soon, Hermione began to miss school dreadfully. That year was meant to be her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and she was to have been Head Girl. To have to wait two whole years before taking the N.E.W.T.'s was also very upsetting, because all of her summer studying and preparation had gone to waste. She longed for something to study, for some way she could help the Order, but each time her assistance was denied. Thus, Hermione was forced into more and more contact with Ron and Harry, who were also staying at the headquarters and who for the most part couldn't be happier about the lack of school. Of course, they both loathed the loss of inter-house quidditch, but other than that the one-year hiatus from homework and detention seemed like a god-send, especially to Ron. Without separate classes and different dormitories as a barrier, he had taken every opportunity to spend time with Hermione, and to not-so-subtly hint at their chances for romance.

It was not as though Hermione didn't love Ron, or even that she didn't find him attractive. She did, and she knew that there were _a lot_ of girls in their year who were dying to catch his interest. Ron had filled out in sixth year, and his boyish looks had made him one of Hogwarts main heartthrobs. But to Hermione, he was just Ron Weasley; one of her best friends and more like a brother than any of her real brothers ever had been. He was funny and goofy and made her laugh at herself, but he was never someone she would consider dating. Hermione wanted someone she could have an intellectual conversation with, someone who would see her love for learning as her best asset, not as a useful perk. She wanted someone with a sense of humor, but also someone rational, who knew when to take things seriously and when to joke. But what she truly wanted, more than anything else, was a strong, secure love, one that was realistic and steady and comforting. Hermione had enough danger in her life to know that any type of sensational, all-consuming love was neither sensible nor practical. She firmly believed love should be a help, not a hindrance. With such high expectations, it was no wonder that Hermione did not have a boyfriend.

And now here she was, back at Hogwarts to finish her seventh year. With absolutely no dark activity whatsoever from the previous year, the Ministry had decided to put school back in session. It was a decision based on very stupid reasoning, but then, Corneilus Fudge was the Minister of Magic. He was the one person you could count on to always make a wise decision at the completely wrong time. The apparent halt of dark happenings was reminiscent of Hitler's "Sitzkrieg", and anyone with half a brain could see that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was simply biding his time. The students at Hogwarts were in more danger than ever, but Hermione felt confident in Dumbledore's ability to keep them safe.

Hermione felt like she shared a bit of that responsibility, as well. She had be renamed Head Girl upon the students return to school, and she faithfully adhered to her subsequent duties. Her watchful eyes kept a look-out for trouble, and she had once again become a stickler for rules. One of her most important duties was an after-curfew sweep, in which she assisted the staff in their search for students out of bed. Hermione and Richard Sales, the Head Boy from Ravenclaw, were told to make a customary run of the school each night before turning in, and to report any misbehavior to whatever staff member was available.

Tonight was a night like any other, as Hermione continued on her way down the halls. She had only once stumbled upon a student out of bed, and that had been a vomiting third year on his way to the Infirmary. Her sweep of the halls was generally very late at night, because in true Hermione fashion she spent most of her evening studying. While rather uneventful, Hermione liked this solitary walk through the castle more than any other part of her day. Howarts was beautiful at night, with the paintings and armor sighing softly in their sleep and the torch-lit hallways bathed in a soft glow. The peacefulness allowed her thoughts to drift, and helped her over-active mind to slow down and prepare for sleep.

Just as she was about to call it a night and return to her warm quarters (Head Boy and Girl received private rooms), Hermione's ears caught a faint strain of music coming from a two or three hallways down. The melody was almost indistinguishable, and Hermione wondered how long it had been playing without her notice. Intrigued, she crept quietly towards the hallway, as the music became louder and more distinct. It was piano music, that became clear, and the song had a haunting tone. After a few minuets, Hermione recognized it as the Phantom of the Opera, although it sounded far more forlorn that she had ever heard it played.

Upon reaching the hallway, she peered around the corner, and glimpsed light shining through a crack in one of the doors. She stepped closer still, and gently pushed the door open enough for her to look inside. A man cloaked in black sat in front of a grand pianoforte, and his hands flew over the keys with unquestionable skill and grace. Dark black hair framed his face, and his posture spoke of both pride and sorrow. He was engrossed in his playing, seeming more like a part of the instrument instead of the one conducting it. 

A wave of familiarity coursed through Hermione, but for the life of her she could not place the man. She seemed to know him, and yet his identity was lost to her at present. In fact, her entire ability to think at all was lost to her. For something queer had overtaken her, and she was unable to feel anything more than the music flowing through her ears, sweeping her away into an endless sea of feeling. She slumped against the wall, and watched for what felt like hours.

The music began to build, and the man's movements became more frantic. Loud bursts of deep tones rippled through the room, as Hermione's emotions escalated. Sorrow and joy, agony and ecstasy, power and loneliness, they coursed through her being, leaving her breathless and desperate for more. The music had enveloped her, had tangled her in a web of magic sensation, until nothing else existed but the feeling of it all. And oh the Power!!! 

Her body was trembling now, and her hands shook violently. Hermione felt as though she would explode, that her body simply could not contain all the power that was budding inside her. Something in the back of her mind screamed for her to stop, to run away, to end to whirlwind and put her feet back on the ground. Yet still she reached out, still she grasped for more. If this was to be her end, then so be it, for what better way to die than in such glorious rapture?

As the music reached its climax, Hermione saw a brilliant light flash before her dazed eyes, and luminous stars filled her vision. For a moment, she was suspended, utterly ensconced in a world of astonishing brightness. Then, the image of the man at the piano invaded her mind, but she saw him no longer as a man. He had the shape of a human, but he was not one. He was divine, all powerful, crafted from golden lightningrods woven together, forming the source of the light and power which so dazzled her. And then the image was gone, and he was once again a man. Simply a man, dressed in plain black clothes and with plain features. His hands, long and strong and white, played the keys of the piano methodically. The harshness of reality hit hard, as Hermione finally recognized his face. 

And then she was falling into a pit of darkness from which there was no escape.


	2. chapter 2

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Title: Lucidi l'anima anitqua (Shine the Ancient Blood)

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Rating: PG-13

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Pairing: Hermione/Snape

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Summary: A prophesy foretells the coming of a savior in whose blood runs the blood of the Hogwarts Four. A savior from whose tainted soul will rise a power greater than the world has ever known. ; Hermione Granger is the first to discover that the secret to defeating Voldemort does not lie with the famous Harry Potter, but Professor Severus Snape.

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Author's Note: Okay, here's the second chapter. This was very hard to write, so I'm sorry if it's a little confusing. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you are great!!!! Oh, and a note about spelling errors, grammar, etc: I have no beta, and rarely read things over thoroughly before I post them. So if there are any mistakes, I apoligize!!! And if anyone want's to beta-read, let me know!!! Again, thanks for the lovely reviews, and please continue to review. I especially want feedback on this chapter, so if you have anything to say that is at all contrsuctive or kind, please do so!!!!!

Bubbletoes ~***~***~**~

Chapter 2

The soft tones of the piano finally ceased, as Professor Severus Snape stilled the motion of his hands and ran them through his hair. The silky locks caressed his fingertips, and he heaved a heavy sigh. Playing the piano had not relaxed him tonight, as it usually did. He was actually wide awake, burning with energy and emotion, and for the life of him, he could not understand why. Severus hadn't slept soundly for more than two or three hours for the past week and half, and one would think that the basic laws of human anatomy should demand that he feel even slightly tired.

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Frustrated, he swung his long legs over the piano bench and prepared to leave the room. If he absolutely could not sleep, then there was always prowling the corridors. Maybe he'd get lucky and come across a couple of students to terrorize, although he would not wish it on even Sirius Black to cross paths with him tonight. Prolonged lack of sleep always put Severus in a foul mood, and caused him to be very prickly. Not that he wasn't _always_ prickly, but his chronic insomnia caused that rather unappealing personality trait to double in intensity.

With a flick of his wrist, Severus doused the torches lighting the music room, and made his way to the door. As he walked through the archway, his foot caught on something large and solid, and he practically landed flat on his face.

"Dammit, what the hell was the that?" he murmured, as he groped his way towards the bundle on the ground. The soft feel of wool met his wandering hands, and Severus proceeded to tug the thing over to face him. His eyes grew wide, as he took in the shadowy face of Hermione Granger.

She looked as though she was either dead, or sleeping very soundly. Her chest barely rose and fell, but her skin was pale and icy cold. Severus shook her gently, trying to wake her and finding that she was unconscious, as he had expected. What on earth had happened to the girl, and why was she just outside the music room?

Severus decided quickly that Miss Granger needed to go to the Infirmary immediately, and without a second though, he swept her up and into his arms. She felt like a block of ice against his chest, and he unintentionally pulled her closer, trying to warm her up. With his long stride, he reached the Infirmary quickly, and barked at a house-elf, telling it to wake Madame Pomfrey at once.

He set Miss Granger down on the nearest bed, and began to take her vitals. Though he was no mediwizard, Snape knew enough to get her basics, and to make a primitive diagnosis. Her heartbeat was slow, so slow that he was surprised that she was alive at all, and her lungs were hardly filling with air.

"Severus, what on earth happened?!!" cried Madame Pomfrey, as she bustled into the infirmary still wearing a pink nightgown.

" I found Miss Granger in this condition of my way out of the music room," Severus answered grimly, even as Madame Pomfrey pushed him away from the bedside, and hurriedly took over Hermione's vitals. Pomfrey's mouth made an 'O' of surprise as she took in the girls condition, and a worried frown creased her brows.

"Merlin, Severus, it's a wonder she's still alive!"

"Will you be able to stabilize her Poppy?"

"Of course, of course. She's going to be fine." Madam Pomfrey waved her hand dissmisively, and started a basic healing spell. "What I can't understand is how Miss Granger came to be like this. She was not stunned, nor did she simply faint. If I didn't know better, I would say that our Head Girl had overdosed on magic enhancers."

"That's highly improbable, Poppy. Hermione Granger, take illegal magic enhancers? You're more likely to find an honest Slytherin.," sneered Snape.

"Yes, I know, Severus. It's simply that she has all the symptoms, and I can't think of any other explanation right now. I'm sure that we'll find out what happened when she wakes up. Speaking of which, go and rouse the Headmaster. He'll want to know about this, and I'm sure he'll want to be here when Miss Granger comes to."

Nodding slightly, Snape glided out of the room towards Dumbledore's quarters. Even if he had been tired, there was no chance Severus was going to get the luxury of sleep tonight.

***

A soft ray of sunshine shone across Hermione's peaceful face, bathing her skin in a warm glow. Slowly becoming aware, she opened her eyes slightly and peered through half-closed lids. Though the image was fuzzy, Hermione could tell that she was currently in the Infirmary, and had obviously not made it back to her quarters the night before. Strange, she thought, the last thing she could remember clearly was searching the hallways before she went to bed. How had she ended up in here?

"Good Morning, Miss Granger," said a voice close to her right. Hermine opened her eyes fully, and became aware of the fact that Albus Dumbledore was sitting very near her bed.

"Professor Dumbledore," she breathed amid a smothering yawn. "What's going on? Why am I in the Infirmary?"

"An excellent question, my dear. You somehow lost consciousness last night on your sweep of the corridors, and Professor Snape stumbled upon you on his way back to the dungeons. He carried you here, and brought Madame Pomfrey in to aid you."

"Professor Snape _carried_ me?" Hermione blurted, her voice barely masking her disbelief.

" Yes, Miss Granger. Why do you seem so surprised?" Dumbledore asked her calmly. "Professor Snape very nearly saved your life. If he had not found you, Madame Pomfrey believes that you could have easily slipped into a coma."

" Sorry, Professor," Hermione had the grace to look ashamed. " I don't mean to be ungrateful, it's just difficult to imagine Professor Snape carrying anyone, let alone myself. Where did you say he found me?"

"I did not say, but I believe that is was just outside one of the music rooms."

Hermione's face suddenly became drained of all its color. The memory of last night painfully rushed into her mind, and she braced her hands against the bed. The exhilarating music, the tension as her emotions rose, and the vision she had as the music reached a crescendo branded themselves into her brain until her head was pounding. Hermione kept replaying the memories over and over again, until finally reaching the part at the end where she recognized Professor Snape's face.

"Ohhhh," she moaned, clutching her hands to her forehead and bending over slightly.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"asked the Headmaster. He rose from his seat surprisingly quickly for a man his age, and started away. "I'll get Madame Pomfrey immediately, don't worry, child."

"No," Hermione called pleadingly after him. "No, Professor, I'm okay. Please, I need to talk to you"

Dumbledore returned to his chair swiftly, and fixed his attention on Hermione, waiting patiently for her to begin. However, she remained silent and stared blankly at the wall. For some reason, Hermione was suddenly having trouble talking.

"Miss Granger, are you sure you're alright? Perhaps we should wait to talk until after you have some more sleep..."

"No, Professor," she interrupted him, voice squeaky but functional. " I assure you, I'm fine. It's just that I remember what happened to me last night, and to be frank, I'm more than a little frightened."

"What did happened, Miss Granger? You weren't attacked, were you?"

" No, no, it was nothing like that at all..." Hermione began to speak rapidly, her sentences and words blurring together. She told Dumbledore the entire story, punctuating her points with wild arm movements that nearly sent the Headmaster's glasses flying off his nose. By the time she was done, Hermione was sweating terribly and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, thoughtfully stroking his beard. His eyes were still held their customary spark, but he seemed very absorbed in his musings. After a while, he returned his gaze to Hemione and spoke. "So you say that you did not recognize Professor Snape at first? That you only realized it was he _after_ the music began to die down?

"Yes, sir."

"And in your vision, you say that he did not look like a man at all, but you knew it was him?"

"Yes, sir. He had a human silhouette, but his body appeared to be made of a brilliant white light."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said, as he continued to stroke his beard. "Very interesting, indeed."

" Do you have a guess as to what happened, Professor?" Hermione asked him when he did not elaborate any further. 

" I do have a guess, Miss Granger. I believe that you began to channel some of Professor Snape's magical abilities and powers while you were listening to him play piano."

"You think that I channeled his powers?" asked Hermione incredulously. " I don't mean to be rude, but is that even possible? I've read countless books which say that a wizard's magical aptitudes are his and his alone. It would take an extraordinary amount of power and concentration to even begin to emit personal magical energy."

" You are correct, child. It does appear to be impossible, but then, so do many things that happen everyday. Magic itself is an impossibility by Muggle standards. But let me ask you a question, Miss Granger. Have you ever heard of the _Libertá Totale _theory?

Hermione racked her brains for a moment, trying to come up with something. She knew she had read about the theory, but was having difficulty remembering the specifics. "Yes," she said uncertainly after a few seconds. "It's the idea that through focusing utterly and completely on a sole activity, the mind reaches it's highest state of intelligence and ability. Supposedly, the mind is freed through the simpleness of having only one action to perform. But achieving the level of concentration required for the mind to reach the _Libertá Totale _state is extremely difficult. Only those who are very intense mediators have ever achieved it."

"Very Good, Miss Granger! I'm quite impressed." Dumbledore beamed at her a moment, and pride was evident in his words. "Now, do think it at all possible that the _Libertá Totale _state could be attained through playing an instrument? 

Hermione saw immediately where Dumbledore's thought process was headed, and she became excited despite herself. "Yes, I suppose that if the person playing the instrument had the capacity for such intense concentration, then it would be entirely possible!"

Dumbledore smiled at her again, and waved his hand for her to continue on her own.

"So...." he prompted.

" So what you're suggesting is that Professor Snape, who we all know to be capable of doing anything that requires intensity, had reached _Libertá Totale _while playing the piano last night, thus freeing the most fantastic abilities of his mind ( i.e. his magical talents)!" Hermione's eyes shown, and her she wrung her hands together with excitement.

"Bravo, Miss Granger! Bravo!" Dumbledore clapped softly. "But now we come to a dilemma. For I do not believe that Professor Snape meant to reach _Libertá Totale _at all. In fact, he plays piano at night to settle his mind, not engage it. So how he managed to achieve so powerful a state of mind as to literally radiate his magical abilities is beyond me."

" I think I'm just as stumped as you are, sir," admitted Hermione, as she leaned back into her pillows and rubbed her forehead. All that intense thinking had made her head ache something dreadful, and she desperately wanted to go back to sleep.

"Yes, well, I believe our conversation has gone on long enough. Madame Pomfrey keeps sending me dirty looks, so I think I had better leave you to her."

'But Professor Dumbledore, shouldn't we try to figure out exactly what happened? Or least, shouldn't we tell Professor Snape something about your theory? I mean, after all, it involves him a great deal, and I think he would want to know." Herminone bit her tongue almost as soon as the words left her mouth; what did she care if Professor Snape knew or not? She decided that she really _did_ need to sleep.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Snape, but do not worry about trying to understand the particulars of what happened. It was probably a fluke accident, and can most certainly be prevented from happening again. The most important thing is that you are all right." Giving her a warm smile, Dumbledore patted her on the head and turned to go. "Feel better soon, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Professor, I will." 

Almost as soon as Dumbledore had left, Madame Pomfrey came bustling over to Hermione's bedside, tutting her tongue with every step.

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder what is wrong with that man! He _knows_ better than to over-exert my patients when they are in such a fragile state!" 

Hermione laughed softly at this, as Madame Pomfrey began administer a Dreamless Sleep Potion. She was very glad that Professor Dumbledore had told her about his theory on the previous nights events; he had treated her like a grown-up woman, not the student that she really was. But Hermione did not believe he was being entirely honest with her about the importance of finding out what really happened. In fact, she imagined that the whole concept was _much more_ important than he was letting on. She would have to tell Harry and Ron about, and see what they thought But she could do all of that, because right now Hermione wanted to do was sleep.

As she drifted off, a question popped into her brain.

"Madame Pomfrey?" she asked dreamily.

"Yes, dear?"

" I remember that someone was holding my hand through the night. Was that you, or Professor Dumbledore?"

"Actually, dear, it was Professor Snape. He volunteered to stay the whole night with you, while Albus and I went back to bed."

Hermione was beyond shocked. Not only did Professor Snape help save her life, he also kept watch over her!!! Barely able to form a coherent thought, she asked the only thing she could think of.

"Where is he now?" Hermiones voice sounded raspy, like she could barely breath.

"Oh, I imagine he's down in the dungeons. He left about ten minuets before you woke up. He said that he was the last person you'd want to wake up to, and Albus agreed with him."

" I'll have to thank him, " she mumbled, as her mind could think no more and she fell into a soothing sleep.


	3. chapter 3

Chapter 3

Saturday morning found Severus Snape awake in his office, grading third-year compositions on Shrinking potions. He sat at an ancient mahogany desk that was partially covered with neat stacks of parchment--undoubtley more ungraded classwork, as the top sheets of parchment were not yet bleeding with red ink. The desk was very large, obviously an antique from the slightly weathered state of the wood, and had intricate carvings of various magical runes. As for the rest of Snape's office, it was full of bookshelves, all of them brimming with thick volumes on practically every subject. Arithmancy, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, even some Muggle poetry and novels, there was nothing left uncovered by Snape's seemingly eclectic taste.

There was no fire in the wide hearth, making the room itself appear as though it was nothing more than an elaborately decorated icebox. But Snape, who never paid even the slightest attention to something so frivolous as comfortable room temperature, did not mind in the least. He was grading essays, after all, and such a task could always be relied upon to take his mind off any physical unpleasantness. The grammar mistakes alone were enough to make him so angry at his students' incompetence that anything else could easily be ignored.

Whilst in the middle of a writing a particularly nasty comment to a Hufflepuff girl about her complete lack of essay organization, Snape heard a knock at the door. Actually, it was more of a drum solo than a knock, and Snape knew of only one person brave enough to treat his office door like a set of tom-toms. 

"Come in, Headmaster," he said without even looking up.

The door creaked open, and Albus Dumbledore stepped inside. "Ah, Severus," greeted the Headmaster with a warm smile. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Sullen and disagreeable as always. And yourself?"

"Perfectly blooming, I assure you. May I ?" asked Dumbledore, indicating a green armchair in front of Severus's desk.

"Of course," replied Snape. He finished his marking, set his quill to rest in the red inkpot, and fixed his attention on Dumbledore. The headmaster, however, had decided upon sitting down that the nail on his left pinky was terribly fascinating, and made no move to speak. If he didn't know better, Snape would swear that Albus was nervous about something. 

"Headmaster?" he drawled, after sitting in more than five minutes of silence. "Was there something you wished to speak with me about?"

"My apologies, Severus," said the Headmaster, shaking himself and finally looking directly at Snape. "Yes, there is something I need to discuss with you. It has to do with Miss Granger's "accident" two nights ago."

"What about it? Poppy informed me yesterday that the girl has made a complete recovery."

"She has, indeed. What I need to explain to you is _how_ Miss Granger came to be in the condition you found her in outside the music room."

"So she told you what happened, did she? Tell me Albus, what fantastic story did our deplorable Miss Granger come up with?"

Ignoring his Potions Master's obvious sarcasm, Dumbledore steamed ahead. He told the story slowly, including his conversation with Miss Granger about _Libertá Totale_, and watched Severus's face like a hawk the entire time. However, such attention was unnecessary, as the man's face remained a cold mask the entire way through. 

When the headmaster finished, Snape sat silently for a moment before speaking. "Albus, why am I under the impression that you actually believe Miss Granger's foolish lie?"

"Because I don't believe that she is lying, Severus. Why would she come up with such an elaborate story if it was not true?"

"How would I know? Don't ask me to try to understand the innerworkings of a Gryffindor's mind--that is _your_ area of expertise," Severus snapped.

"You are right, of course," conceded Dumbledore. " But would you care to enlighten me as to why you think that Miss Granger is lying in the first place?"

"Why do I think she is lying....Albus, please be reasonable!" fumed Snape. " To actually think that Miss Granger passed out because she "overdosed" on my magic is ludicrous! Even if I somehow achieved _Libertá Totale_, which in itself is simply laughable, there is no possible way that I would have emitted enough power to affect her so strongly."

Dumbledore smiled shrewdly. "I knew you would reach that conclusion, Severus, which is why I did considerable research before even thinking of telling you about all this. I anticipated your less-than-thrilled reaction, and wanted something with which to back up my theory."

"And what did your research tell you? That all young women going by the name of Hermione Granger should be tested for mental insanity?"

The headmaster gave another slight smile at this, and his eyes twinkled. "No, my research nearly confirmed something which I have been suspecting for quite awhile_. _But first, let us look back on your ability to reach _Libertá Totale_..."

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Snape interjected with a frustrated sigh. "I told you before Albus, I _did not_ achieve _Libertá Totale_._"_

"And I told you before, Severus, that I believe you _did. _Why are you having such a hard time accepting something which the evidence so clearly supports? It's very out of character of you."

"Then you do not know my character as well as you may think," said Snape with a sneer, "because I accept things based on solid fact, not ridiculous notions! Have you somehow forgotten that the state of _Libertá Totale_ requires a great purity of mind, or did you just miraculously lose all memory of my seedy past_?"_

"Neither; in fact, that detail is one of the greatest supports for my case. For what could be more pure than a state of mind induced by complete concentration on music, which is perhaps the most beautiful form of human expression?_"_

That stilled Snape's rejections for a moment, as his mind considered the Headmaster's words. He was not the sort of man who would argue for the sake of arguing, especially with Albus Dumbledore, but that simply showed his firm conviction that the old man was way out of the quidditch pitch with this one. Within seconds, he had carefully crafted a rebuttal. "You may be right, Albus, but such perfect attention to music can only be achieved by a brilliant musician, not a novice like myself."

__

"Modesty doesn't suit you well, Severus, so please refrain from feigning it. You know perfectly well that your musical talents are leagues above those of an amateur_. _I have known you since you eight years old, and even then you played piano better than I have ever been able to in nearly fifty years of study. But I am growing tired of this pointless arguing; I do not care whether you believe me or not, I just want you to listen._"_

Snape looked like he wanted to argue, but a warning look from Dumbledore cause him to restrain himself. "As you wish," he fairly ground out, but still managed to keep his tone from being too sarcastic. As much as Dumbledore often infuriated him with his unwavering optimism, the man was still like a father to him, and thus Snape kept his conduct reasonably respectful. Dumbledore had spoken on his behalf and worried about him too many times to have become wholly undeserving of his vicious tongue.

"Thank you," said the Headmaster, voice betraying his relief at Severus's submission. He then leaned forward in his chair, and his eyes became earnest. "Now, to get to the point-- on Thursday night, you somehow managed to radiate a magical force so powerful that it took complete and utter control over one of the most promising young minds at Hogwarts. You did so without your apparent knowledge, and felt no more than normal fatigue at the end. In fact, you managed to physically carry the victim of your magical prowess to the Infirmary with very little effort at all, and then you stayed awake the entire night to aid her. Therefore, that flood of power from your body had seemingly affected you very little.

Dumbledore paused here, to take a careful look at Professor Snape's face. The potions master sat completely still, and his face was set in stone. He stared back into the Headmaster's blue eyes, his own gaze constant and unwavering--Snape had kept his word, and was still listening intently.

"Mis_s _Granger," continued Dumbledore, "was not so lucky. She lost consciousness, and took nearly an entire day to recover.Also, during the time she was overpowered by your magic, she had a series of strange emotions and visions, culminating in one of you as divine power--to quote her own words, you "had the silhouette of man but were not one." But she did not particularly recognize you, so much as she had a sense of familiarity with this celestial being. She saw you as crafted of brilliant light, all-powerful and glorious, and then awoke only tofind that you were _you_, Professor Severus Snape, her potions master and the Head of Slytherin HouseAnd it was only after this sudden awareness of your identity that Miss Granger lost consciousness.

So the questions beg to be asked: what was it that Miss Granger actually saw, and why do you have this sudden powerful ability? I believe I have answers to both--for they interlace with each other--but I do not think that will be to your liking. Severus, I must ask you again, are you prepared to listen to what I have to say with an open mind and to keep your doubts to yourself until I have fully explained myself?"

Snape looked uncertain--_DID he really want to hear this?_--but before he could answer, there came another knock at his door. 

"Who is it?!" Severus barked, angry at being interrupted while trying to make his decision. Whoever was on the other side of that door had better have a damn good reason to be there.

"Hermione Granger, sir," came the muffled reply. Snape started from his chair, and prepared to tell the stupid girl to leave him alone, but Dumbledore stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"Come in, Miss Granger," called the Headmaster, as he pulled out his pocketwatch. "I see that you're right on time."

Ohh, suspenseful!!! Sorry if it was a bit confusing, but hopefully I'll explain all of it better in the next chapter, including how Hermione came to be involved with Dumbledore's plan to talk with Severus. It might be a while, maybe a week, before I update (school and cross-country call) but I promise I'll get it together as soon as possible. O, and see that little button at the bottom that says review? Push it, and you'll make my day! Seriously, I LIVE FOR FEEDBACK, BOTH GOOD AND BAD (AS LONG AS ITS CONSTRUCTIVE!), SO PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW!!! AND A BIG THANK-YOU TO THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY REVIEWED, YOUR COMMENTS AND IDEAS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!!! --And I'm done with the CAPS now! : P

bubbletoes ~***~***~***~


	4. Ch 4

Author's Note: Finnnnnalllllyyyyyy, an UPDATE!!!!!! I am soooo sorry about the long wait (over a month!), but my life has been crazy, and I have had _no time_ to write at all. Add on the fact that I re-wrote this chapter three times because I had a hard time keeping it from being totally confusing, and you can see why it took so long. A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and to everyone who reads this despite my lack of updates. I love you guys, and am glad I have people who are enjoying this as much as I am! A note about the timeline and translations: I added the timeline to get rid of any confusion about when events are taking place, so if you get lost just look at the dates (the story starts on the Saturday following the Thursday night Hermione watches Severus play, and ends on the Friday morning after that Thursday night.) Also, the translations from English to Italian were done with an on-line translator, so sorry to any Italian speakers if the grammar is completely off! And remember: no beta = spelling and grammar mistakes, so watch out! Thx again to everyone, and PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!!

Saturday, Oct. 9th

9:11 AM

Professor Snape's Office

The heavy wooden door to Snape's office creaked open, revealing a very nervous Hermione Granger. She stepped inside, eyes cast downward and hands clenched behind her back. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and her hair was pulled back from her face in a messy braid. She simply radiated discomfort and anxiety, and looked for all the world that she would rather be scrubbing encrusted cauldrons with her toothbrush than standing in Snape's office.

"Take a seat, Miss Granger" said Dumbledore kindly, motioning her closer with a wave of his hand. "We have much to discuss with Professor Snape". 

Hermione walked forward hesitantly, and slowly raised her eyes enough to see where she was going. She could feel Snape looking at her, his gaze like a knife upon her skin. Her cheeks were burning, and her legs felt as though someone had transfigured them into jelly. She did not want to have this conversation with, did not want to help Dumbledore explain something that she could scarcely believe herself. 

In less than fourty-eight hours, Hermione's life had turned upside down. Things she had taken as solid fact had been melted down and remolded into childish fictions she was ashamed to have believed in. In an almsot brutally quick fashion, a teacher she had once considered nothing more than a carboard cut out of a man had become painfully three-dimensional. It was cruel of the headmaster to ask for her assistance, when he knew what was happening to her, what _had_ happened to her. How could Dumbledore expect her to look the potions master in the face after he had carried her in his arms, after all she knew about his past, and especially after that awful dream she had about him?

Oh yes, the dream. The terrible dream that frightened and disgusted and excited her all at the same time. The dream that turned Severus Snape from a greasy bastard into a vailiant hero, the dream that by every law of magic she _should not_ have had. Did the Heasmaster really mean for her to tell Snape about that?

Still refusing to bring her eyes up, Hermione seated herself in the open armchair in front of the desk. She chewed furiously on her bottom lip, and waited for Dumbledore to begin.

"Now that Miss Granger is settled, would you mind giving me your answer, Severus? Are you prepared to listen without needless interuption, and to take what I am about to suggest seriously?"

Hermione finally looked up enough to watch Snape's face out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were hard, and his mouth was set in a thin line. _He's going to refuse_, she thought desperately,_ I'm not going to have to do this after all!_ But then, to her horror, she saw the spark of curiosity in his black eyes, and watched with dread as it spread across his face like wildfire. Snape looked to the Headmaster.

"You have my word, Albus. I will listen, if for nothing more than to quench my own curiosity."

Hermione's heart fell to her stomach. 

***

_WInd sweeps across the brown moor, blowing the grass away from the dirt like long hair blown away from a face. The air is thick, muggy, and dark clouds obscure the shining sun. But the sun, ever constant and persistent, pierces through the cloud-blanket in little rays, raining down blessings on the patches of earth lucky enough to be touched by light._

In the center of the moor stands three pillars, tall and strong, made of ancient white marble that is weathered to the color of soft gray. They make a triangle, each pillar marking a vertex of the shape. The Romans built these pillars, when they came to conquer the British isles long ago. It was a symbol of the first triumvirate of Caesar, Crassus, and Pompey, from which sprang the new and powerful Roman Empire. It was a tribute to change, and the power that came with it.

But the Romans fell, as was inevitable, and the pillars passed into new hands. The mages of Britain took them as their own, and used them for magical rites and rituals. They charmed and warded the pillars, charging the stone with earth magic that would remain long after their deaths.

And the magic still remains, hundreds of years later. Those who know the secrets of the pillars, (and there are few left), use them to accomplish great things. In fact, it is believed by the few who Know that the key to defeating the Dark lies within those magic structures.

Now, on the top of the pillars, nearly twenty feet in the air, stand three mages. One wears robes of deep blue and black, another robes of brown and yellow, and the last wears robes of brilliant crimson and gold. Each has their arms outstretched, raised high above their heads with their wands held in their right hand. Eyes closed, they chant in a foregin tongue.

The wind picks up, and soon the few rays of sun are gone, as the clouds darked and grow heavy with rain. The robes whip around the bodies of the mages, making them look like great birds flapping their wings. 

In the center of the triangle, there stands a man. Whether he was always there, or just arrived, is uncertain, but now he too is chanting, though he holds no wand in his hand. He wears no robes, either, just plain black pants without any shirt. He must be cold, for the wind is biting, but he does not shiver; he must be afraid, for the mages atop the pillars are an itimidating sight, but he does not cower. Instead, he stands tall, back straight, and arms lose at his sides. His bare feet are planted firmly on the ground, and his eyes are closed.

The wind is violent now, beating against the man with brutal force, and torrents of rain pound agianst his bare chest. His muscles are scultped and taut, but no amount of physical strenth can withstand the wrath of the elements for very long. Still he stands tall, and continues to chant, his voice difficult to hear above the howling wind and rain.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightening pierces the sky, and the mages atop the pillars capture it with their wands, forming an acutal triangle of energy with their wandtips. Then, the mage in the crimson and gold robes waves his left hand, and the wind and rain cease abruptly. With a powerful, boombing voice that echoes for miles, he chants:

"Anima dal mio fondatore, il leone-padre, l'anima antica di magia non vista mai, resa diretto puro me, presso me e da me, assegno al saviour, per pulire la sua anima alterata e per liberare la sua alimentazione dentro. Lucidi l'anima antica."*

_The mage in the blue and black robes speaks next, his voice small and squeaky but still ringing with power:_

"Anima dal mio fondatore, la merlo-madre, l'anima antica di magia non vista mai, resa diretto puro me, presso me e da me, assegno al saviour, per pulire la sua anima alterata e per liberare la sua alimentazione dentro. Lucidi l'anima antica."**

_Finally, the mage in the brown and yellow robes speaks. Her voice is soft, motherly, and full of compassion and hope:_

"Anima dal mio fondatore, la tasso-madre, l'anima antica di magia non vista mai, resa diretto puro me, presso me e da me, assegno al saviour, per pulire la sua anima alterata e per liberare la sua alimentazione dentro. Lucidi l'anima antica."***

_Then, as one , the mages throw their arms down and point their wands at the man in the center of the triangle. The bolt of energy the had been suspended shoots down, down on to the man, and courses through his being. He is shaking, frantically shaking, and he sinks to his knees, crying out in agony as the terrible energy assualts his system. The mages watch from above, doing nothing to to easy his pain. _

After a time, his shaking stops, and the man lays prone, motionless, on the wet grass. He is curled onto his side, and his arms lay limply across his body. He is breathing his labored, but his eyes are open, albeit unseeing and blank. 

Suddenly, so quite that it is almost discernable, the man rasps out:

"L'anima del mio fondatore, serpente-padre, scuro ed alterato poichè la nostra linea è stata sempre, ora è resa pulita con l'anima degli amici allineare. Il limite in me è le anime uguali del serpente-padre, della tasso-madre, del leone-padre e della merlo-madre ed avrò il potere di arrestare la nerezza. Ma scelgo rimanere un serpente. Lucidi l'anima antica."****

_As soon as the last word is spoken, a girl comes running out into the middle of the triangle, her shoes slogging through the damp grass. She throws herself down by the man, and cradles his head in her lap, storking his pale face with soft fingers and murmering into his ear. Her face is tearstained and dirty, but shines with undilutated joy._

_"My love," she murmurs, voice trembling slightly. "My love". The girl bends down, pushing her mop of bushy brown curls out of her face, and touches her lips to his._

*Blood from my Founder, lion-father, the ancient blood of magic never seen, made pure through me, within me, and by me, I grant to the Saviour, to cleanse his tainted soul and unleash his power within. Shine the Ancient Blood.

**Same as *, only "lion-father" is changed to "raven-mother".

***Same as *, only "lion-father" is changed to "badger-mother".

****Blood of my founder, snake-father, dark and tainted as our line has always been, now is made clean

through the blood of true friends. Bound in me are the equal bloods of snake-father, badger-mother, lion-father,and blackbird-mother, and I will have power to stop the Darkness. But I choose to stay a snake.

Shine the Ancient Blood.

***

Friday, Oct. 8th 

10:45 AM

The Howarts Infirmary

The peaceful form of Hermione Granger lay on the infirmary bed, her breathing shallow and her face at ease. In essence, she was the perfect model of a person under the influence of Dreamless Sleep Potion. Well, almost perfect. Everything about her form screamed enchanted sleep, save for the sublte fluttering of her eyelids. The slight movement of her eyes behind the closed lids was proof that the Dreamless Sleep Potion she had taken earlier was not so dreamless after all.

Soon, the eyelid fluttering gave way to face contortions and heavy breathing, as Hermione reacted to whatever it was she was seeing in her sleep. Her body lurched against the bed, and sweat began to creep out from under her hairline. Soft moans escaped her lips, as she mumbled nonsense words into her pillow.

This continued for a few moments, until suddenly, Hermione's movements stopped. She was completley still on the bed, and her face dropped into a look of disbelief and confusion. She lay prone for only instant, before snapping her eyes open and sitting up straight in bed. She looked wildly around her, breathing once again heavy and uneven. With a look of disgust, she raised her hand to mouth and frantically wiped it off.

Hermione's mind was felt like it was spinning in circles. What the hell had just happened? Why did she have a dream, when she had taken a good amount of Dreamless Sleep Potion and she was only supposed to have a deep healing sleep? And if she had to have a dream, why, _why_ did it have to be about kissing Professor Snape? Granted, there had been a good many other things going on in the dream, but the image of her lips pressed to her teacher's kept burning into her brain. Everytime she replayed the image in her mind, she felt confused and disgusted, but at the same time, strangely warm on the inside. She had stroked his face, and told him she loved, and it made her feel fuzzy all over? Since when was she harboring subconcious longing for Professor Snape?

Concentrating, Hermione tried to recall other elements of her dream. She remembered the pillars, and the wizards who stood atop, and she remembered that they had been peforming some kind of ceremony. Closing her eyes, she brought forth a mental picture, and realized with a start that she could remember the events of the dream with perfect clarity. She saw the faces of the three mages clearly in her mind, and she recognized each of them. The one in the crimson and gold robes was Professor Dumbledore, the blue and black robed wizard was Professor Flitwick, and the woman clad in brown and yellow was Professor Sprout. Furthermore, she could remember the exact words that they had chanted while doing the ceremony, though she did not know what they meant or what language they belonged to. Hermione had a sneeking suspicion it was some form of Italian, but she wouldn't know until she researched in the library.

But even the prospect of library research could not draw Hermione away from the fact that she had also kissed Professor Snape in her dream. To her, this seemed like a pivotal point, like the whole purpose of the dream centered around that kiss at the end. Hermione had sudden urge to seek out Harry and Ron, and talk to them about her crazy night and even crazier dream. But then she checked the impulse, for though she badly wanted to tell the boys about her dream and laugh hysterically at the lunacy of it all, she also feared the embarassment and snide comments she knew would follow, especially from Ron.

Just as she was deciding it would be best _not_ to tell the boys, Madame Pomfrey walked into room carrying a large tray loaded with vials of Pepper-Up Potion. When she saw Hermione sitting up in her bed, obviously wide awake, she dropped the tray in shock. The bottles of potion crashed against the floor, as she rushed to Hermione's bedside.

"Good gracious, child, what on earth are you doing up?" asked Pomfrey, the broken vials and ruined potion forgotten for the moment.

"I had a dream," Hermione answered plainly, giving away no details.

Pomfrey's eyes became as large as dinner plates. "A dream, you say? Are you quite certain?"

"Yes, m'am, I am very certain." Hermione looked at the oder woman's face, and becamed a bit concerned about the absolute lack of color in her cheeks. "Is something wrong, Madame Pomfrey? It was jsut a dream. I mean, I know I took Dreamless Sleep Potion, but maybe I just didn't get a strong enough dose. Or maybe the potion was faulty."

Madame Pomfrey seemd to have collected herself, and offered Hermione a comforting smile. "No, the potion was not faulty, my dear. Professor Snape made it himself, and you know that he prides himself on his flawless brewing abilities." Pomfrey raised her hand to cut off Hermione before she restated her other theory. "And I gave you a _very_ strong dose, so there is no chance that it did not effect you as it should."

"Well, then how did I have a dream? I don't want to be disrespectful, but something had to have gone amiss with the potion. There is no other explanation." Hermione sounded slightly frustrated, for she desperatley wanted an reasonable explanation.

"There is one other option, Miss Granger." Hermione looked over to the door of the Infirmary, to see Albus Dumbledore leaning into the frame. _How long has he been standing there?_ she thought. _And how does he always seem to know exactly whats going on in the castle?_

"What would that be, Albus?" asked Madame Pomfrey, her eyebrow raised. "I'm afraid that I have to agree with Hermione, I am aware of no other explanation."

Professor Dumbldore walked into the room, and stood next Hermione's bedside. He looked deep into her eyes, as though he was searching for something. After a moment, he smiled, seeming very satisfied. He gave Hermione an approving look before raising his eyes to Madame Pomfrey.

"If I'm not mistaken, Poppy, I believe our Head Girl just experienced her first vision of the future. Congratulations, Miss Granger, on being the newest Seer in Britain."

__


End file.
